


this thing that's between us

by mischievous



Category: Twister (1996)
Genre: F/M, there is no plot here (just FYI)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2018-01-12 17:18:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1193307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mischievous/pseuds/mischievous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s a storm raging outside the window, the rain lashing against the glass, the lightning blinding-bright before the thunder follows. Jo counts the beats between light and sound, she can’t help herself, and tries to ignore the storm that's raging inside her body; the need that thrums through her, intensifying as the weather does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	this thing that's between us

There’s a storm raging outside the window, the rain lashing against the glass, the lightning blinding-bright before the thunder follows. Jo counts the beats between light and sound, she can’t help herself, and tries to ignore the storm that's raging inside her body; the need that thrums through her, intensifying as the weather does. Every flash of lightning raises gooseflesh on her arms. Every crash of thunder makes her breath catch. She’s always affected by storms one way or another, but it’s been a while since it caught her like this, since it made her want to fuck the electricity in the air out of her system. It’s because Bill’s back. Because Bill’s back and he kissed her and he promises that he’s _staying_ and—

He reminds her of all the ways they used to be perfect together, the ways that he made her life into something better than before. When they chased storms together and risked it all for the thrill of it, and then came home to tumble together into a world built for two.

This isn’t the kind of storm that inspires her to chase it. It's the kind of storm that reminds her of too many other nights spent with Bill, wrapped around and inside her, and her body cries out for his touch. She’s never wanted anyone else the way that she’s wanted him ever since they met. It’s been over a year since he last touched her and she’s desperate and needy and she _wants_ with a fierceness that surprises even her; hungering for something that she’s only half-sure she can still have.

Bill enters the room as the thunder sounds again, closer now, his voice blending with the sounds of nature, saying her name as she shivers and closes her eyes. He’s by her side in a moment, his hands gentle against her cheeks, and she opens her eyes to meet his stormy gaze. And then she thinks: _of course_ he’s as attuned to the atmosphere around them, _of course_ he feels the same pull she does, because it’s her and it’s him and it’s them and he has always been able to understand her. 

He kisses her as the lightning flashes, imprinting spots on their vision, his hands wandering beneath her t-shirt to cup her breasts; a rough swipe of his fingers inside her bra, across her nipples, making them tighten and pucker and _oh god, his lips_. And now her shirt is somewhere around her throat but that means his lips are on her skin so she really couldn’t care less, and she clutches at his shoulders as she whines and tries to wriggle closer.

He tears himself away, breathing hard and fast, to pull her t-shirt over her head, tossing it aside. Her bra goes too and she pulls him closer, fingers fumbling with his belt buckle as she kisses him again and again. His touch sets her skin on fire, makes her light-headed and dizzy, and distracts her from her primary goal of getting his clothes off as fast as possible. His hands cover hers, helping her, even as he refuses to break the kiss, shedding her clothes along with his own, his fingers skimming between her legs to make her cry out, overwhelmed with sensation and feelings she'd forced herself to forget. He slides a finger inside her heat and groans, a deep rumble that sends a shiver throughout her entire body, and she bucks against his hand. He adds a second finger and then a third, and she's tight and her body's burning and she really doesn't want to wait, grinds down against his fingers, her nails digging welts into his shoulders, his back, hyper-aware that his cock is flushed and hard against her thigh.

"Jesus, Jo," he gasps out a strangled cry as her fingers close around him and he thrusts into her grip.

She lets go to pull him down beside her on the couch, flips their positions so she can straddle his hips, his body warm and solid beneath her. She leans in to kiss him as lightning illuminates the room around them, takes mental snapshots in time with the flashes, and reaches out to guide him inside her. His hands are heavy against her hips as she slowly takes him in and she drops her head to his shoulder when he's finally, _finally_ , sheathed all the way inside, takes a deep breath as she lets her body adjust to the stretch. He whispers her name, head thrown back, pupils blown, and she begins to move against him, meeting his thrusts, setting a rhythm that her body remembers all too well. 

It isn't going to take much more. The storm that rages outside fuels their need and it's been too long, for both of them, since they were last together like this. Jo feels a tingle beginning at the base of her spine as her movements become erratic, her hips grinding into his as she whimpers and arches closer.

He thrusts up one last time and they come together as the thunder crashes overhead. She feels it in her bones, the electric snap crackle of the stormy atmosphere, and she gasps Bill's name into the kiss as she loses track of everything else. 

When she comes back to herself she realises she's slumped in Bill's lap, his softening cock still buried deep inside her, his hands stroking gentle patterns against her skin. She mouths a kiss against his shoulder and thinks about moving. 

The storm broke when they did and now it's just rain that pitter-patters against the windowpane as she slowly extricates herself from his lap. Her body aches, fiercely, but it's a good ache; the kind she's missed. He stands up and wraps his arms around her, pulling her into a hug that's just as welcome, and she rests her head against his shoulder as she tries to remember how to breathe. His heart beats out a rhythm that's as familiar as her own and she closes her eyes against the memories.

"I love you, Jo," Bill whispers, brushing a kiss against her cheek. "You know that, right?"

She does know. 

She loves him too.


End file.
